Wolves and the River of Stone (36 page)

I could have kissed him when the burning suddenly vanished from my wrist in a burst of power and light. I could see the survivors now. Hugh and Sam were still standing beside Mary’s crumpled form. They’d pulled back a little from their earlier station, but I could see two other forms on the ground beside them. One was Dominic, but at least he was still moving. Alan was on his hands and knees, and I wished we were close enough to see how bad they were hurt. Mike the Demon was near the river with Nixie and the other water witches as he gestured toward the southeast. At the other end of the field, Carter was on the ground, leaning against a tree beside Cara and Zola. I couldn’t see anyone else, but an explosion of light drew my attention to the south once more.

“Where’s Aideen?” I asked.

“With the others,” Foster said. “To the south. Bubbles and Peanut are with her too.”

My gaze flashed between Philip’s group behind the shield and the southern tree line.

“No,” Foster said. “We’re here for Philip.”

It was almost as though Philip had heard the fairy. He dropped the shield. The pop of dissipating power drew my attention. I watched as the necromancers spread out from him and they all started backing toward the southeastern trees, away from the deadly water of the river.

Vassili struck. The old vampire came out of the woods like a streak of lightning, but it didn’t matter. Philip smiled as he turned to the bloody vampire, made a complicated gesture with his hands, and then blasted Vassili with a wave of force when the vampire was about a foot from him. The pale form crashed through the thin line of trees along the riverbank with a grunt before he slid off the edge into the river.

“Still giving wards out to vampires, hmm?” Philip said. “Did you think that would stop me?”

Zola stepped away from Carter. She walked toward Philip and glared at the one time love of her life. “Where are the soulstones, Philip?”

“So you did know what I was after.” He wiped a thin line of blood off his temple, and I didn’t think it was his. “I wasn’t sure you’d figure it out.”

“You were always easy to figure out.”

Philip frowned and reached into his pocket. He held his fist out and opened it. A small soulstone rested on his palm. “You have no idea what I’m after.”

“Prosperine,” Zola said as she shifted her cane across her body.

Philip laughed without humor. “Prosperine.
Prosperine?”
A terrible smile raised his lips. “Prosperine is just a taste, a tiny taste. Necromancers will be supreme when the world is dead. Imagine it.”

“And our friends?” Zola asked as her voice rose. “Our families? All dead. The world will be a corpse you
idiot.”

“You never saw the bigger picture.” He tossed the soulstone into the air at Zola. My eyes tracked it, her eyes tracked it. I’m pretty sure everyone’s eyes tracked it, except Philip’s.

He blurred into motion and had his arm wrapped around Zola’s neck and a wicked blade against her chest before any of us could react. Even the vampires stared at our worsening situation with something like confusion. Philip shouldn’t have been that fast.

He dragged the blade up her cloak and onto her neck. “Did you forget about the grave, Adannaya?”

The expression that rolled across her face and the weakness in her voice sent chills coursing down my arms. “Oh, god, you can’t.”

“A prehistoric mass grave Adannaya, with thousands buried there, and thousands of years later the Confederates. You’re right next to them and you didn’t even notice.” He dragged out the first syllable of the word, sweet, nauseating.

Foster shrank and shot into the air faster than I could follow.

I sent my power coursing through the area. I found nothing until it butted up against the old cemetery. “There isn’t a mass grave here,” I said. “Let her go.”

Philip’s laugh was low and dark. “It’s not the bodies, boy. It’s the souls. Drop it, Zachariah.”

My eyes widened as Philip’s assassin released a misdirection art he must have been holding in place since we’d gotten there. The tiny hills of grass in the eastern field shimmered and became piles of dirt behind a narrow, twisted stone inlet. Stacks of thin, wide stone were set a few feet into the earth and formed a winding channel leading out to the river. What looked like stone steps led into the strange channel, and then a pale light drew my eyes beyond that out-of-place structure.

In one horrible moment I
saw
the open wound in the earth. It was a churning mass of restless souls. I’d seen things over the years, horrible things. Hell, I’d seen horrible things earlier that night, but looking into that wound in the earth ... it was the first time I felt like I was looking straight into hell. Some souls were so old they were nothing but floating bits of luminescence, their human forms long forgotten. Some were more humanlike, clawing at the sides of the grave with silent screams as others stepped over them, crushed them into the ground, and repeated the process in a constant, churning, flow.

“You’re insane,” I said.

Philip’s arm tightened around Zola’s neck as he backed closer to the grave. “Insane? Hardly, boy. Besides ... you and me, Vesik? We’re the same.”

“Hell we are.”

I saw Foster glide smoothly in behind Philip, pausing between the trees at the edge of the river. He leapt again and moved forward in total silence. Keeping Philip talking was my only thought. Foster would finish this.

“Oh, we’re the same, boy. We are. You’re just as much a liar as I am. You want power and domination. You’re just too scared to admit it. Too distracted by the maggots you surround yourself with.”

Zola choked and Philip jerked her neck hard, drawing blood with the tip of the dagger on her neck. Foster surged forward, exploding into his seven-foot form as he pulled his sword back for a killing blow.

“All I need now is a dark bottle,” Philip said.

My heart stuttered. “No, Foster, get back!”

Everything went to hell, or, perhaps, hell came to us.

Philip released his grip on Zola and kicked her in the small of the back. She went down hard. Philip turned and dropped to one knee as he said,
“Modus Pulsatto!”

A torrent of force hammered Foster backwards.

“No!” Aideen cried as she broke through the southern tree line.

Foster’s wings tore as he screamed and slammed into one of ancient trees before he fell to the ground in silence. The monstrous tree shuddered and leaves showered all around the limp fairy. Philip made another gesture with his hand and the small pouch at Foster’s side was torn away. The bottle came out of the pouch and I heard it smack into Philip’s hand as the incantation died.

“Philip! Don’t!” Zola was on her knees with one hand extended. “Please,
don’t ...”

The dark necromancer glared at Zola as he tossed the bottle into the center of the ancient mass grave. The souls cringed away from it.
“Minas Opprimotto.”

The bottle splintered like glass. Just a quiet tinkling of metal shards. A detached part of me remembered the assault on Azzazoth. Silence washed over the world before the amalgamation of soul and aura came screaming out of the dark bottle and shot to the edges of the mass grave. I watched in horror as the souls of the dead were broken and reassembled, only to be broken again. A blood red pinpoint began to pulse near the center of the grave. It grew and distended into a thin disc as the entire mass began to spin. It picked up speed and started to roar like a tornado. The earth rippled and reality screamed as an impossibly thin arm shot out of the distortion.

Vik and Sam moved toward Philip. Vik wore a film of gore across his face.

“Don’t attack him!” Zola said. “It will draw you in.”

Philip laughed and stepped into the middle of the maelstrom. His surviving men were scattered around the grave. Some looked terrified. Others seemed to be having a religious epiphany. Philip reached out for the hand and I stared in sick fascination as he started pulling on the emaciated limb. The flesh was red and worn like a rotted leather saddlebag. Philip dragged more of the creature into our world. Its head was bowed with a thin mass of tangled, matted black hair covering its scalp. It was clothed, but visions of decay flashed through the rotted blue robe adorning its body. Its legs weren’t much thicker than its arms and Philip laughed as the swirling disc of power dissipated.

We all watched, impotent, as the world gave birth to a demon.

Philip smiled at me with the proud eyes of a father. “And just think, Vesik, I couldn’t have raised her without the twin souls of child killers. I owe you my thanks for sending one with Azzazoth.”

I choked back a cry when his words hit home. Vicky’s killers were inside that thing. They were part of it. “Oh, god no.”

Philip touched the filthy, matted hair. “Arise, child, and claim your rightful place as the Destroyer, Prosperine.”

The demon raised its head. It had no eyes, just the faint silver glow of starlight in its vacant sockets. It stared at me and I stared back. My skin started to crawl but I didn’t look away as the creature straightened its form and stood beside Philip.

I barely even registered the fact that another battle had begun. Sam and Vik launched themselves at the demon. Agonized screams filled the night when Prosperine flicked her wrists and four parallel slashes tore into Vik and my sister. I saw a huge wolf charge, it had to be Alan, and he suffered the same fate. The necromancers were laughing as they scattered, moving to strike my fallen friends.

I tore my gaze away from the demon and leveled my pepperbox. Three shots. Three dead necromancers. By the time I aimed at the fourth, he saw me coming.

“
Impadda!”
he said and my shot careened off the edge of his shield. The shield may not have been able to take a direct hit, but I had bigger problems than one necromancer. Power, lightning, fire, and screams tore through the air as the battle erupted into absolute chaos.

I saw Vassili at the edge of the river. A necromancer made the mistake of attacking the old vampire. Vassili charged him, his amulet deflecting the necromancy. The vampire’s left hand grabbed the necromancer’s black cloak as his right hand blurred into motion. Blood and tissue erupted from the necromancer’s chest and he fell to the earth a moment later.

A massive bolt of power shot towards me, and I threw myself backwards, afraid I didn’t have the time to raise a shield. The incantation sent a thin wave of earth into the air as it cut into the field. I caught a glimpse of Aideen as she deflected another necromancer’s attack. She chased him to the south. Bubbles and Peanut melted through the shadows behind her.

I pushed myself up and ran toward Zola as I took two sloppy shots at my attacker. He called a shield, and then retreated closer to Philip. Blood was trickling down Zola’s neck when I got to her. I glanced toward Sam and Vik. They were still down, but the area around them was relatively clear. They were both moving, but not quickly. Alan was back in the fray. “What do we do?”

Zola shook her head and raised a shield of her own. “Kill Philip. Maybe it will banish the demon, but Ah don’t know for sure.”

I nodded and ran toward the river. One of the water witches was on the edge. “Try to kill Philip. It may get rid of the demon.”

The translucent head nodded and said, “I will tell my sisters.” She vanished into the water. I didn’t even make it back to Mary and Hugh before the water witches rose up and slaughtered two more necromancers. Without Philip’s shield, their own shields were useless. Nixie lunged at Philip, but he backed away, raised his hand, and blasted her with a surge of power.

She was already getting up again before I could think to yell her name. The demon took a step toward Sam and Vik. I cursed and changed course. I was at Sam’s side in fifteen paces, dragging her back toward the trees. She cringed and grabbed the bloody gashes on her chest as her heels bounced over clumps of grass. Prosperine was almost to Vik when Philip called her name. The demon paused and turned toward the necromancer. Mary was a short distance away. Haka and Alan were close by, staring at the demon. I took the opportunity to grab Vik and drag him back to the woods beside Sam. He grunted and cursed at me, but was otherwise silent.

“Damian?” Sam said as I laid Vik down.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are we gonna make it through this?” Her voice was a whisper.

“Yeah, we are. I’ll be back for you.”

“Okay ...”

I clenched my fist and turned back to the battle. Foster was gone. I hoped that meant he was alright. Prosperine was striking out at a black wolf and Vassili. They were both too fast for the demon, for now. Philip used the distraction to stumble into his circle and raise his shield again. There were three other cloaks inside the circle and I recognized the three bloodied necromancers. Zachariah, Jamin, and the man Zola called Volund.

Another line of necromancers oozed out of the woods to the south, forming a line between me and the risen demon. They should have been watching their own asses.

Aideen walked out of the woods behind them. Her right wing was frayed and her left arm hung uselessly at her side, coated in a ribbon of blood. My skin crawled as she bellowed a high-pitched war cry and slammed her sword into the dirt. “Bubbles, Peanut, kill them all!”